Two weeks after Aven set that poor poor shrub on fire, she was stalking Grandpoppy Styles by sneakily following him in her Jojo Siwa Dream Car while he was on his nighttime stroll.
She took a left on Eleanor Avenue and found Grandpoppy solemnly gazing at a gravestone in the Fancy Underground Cemetery of Manchester East (FUCME). She pulled out her little photographer gorl camera and decided to snap a picture. With flash.
This amateur mistake drew the attention of Grandpoppy. He frowned as he recognised the ugly face of the cigarette smoking little asthma girl.
"Oh dear," squeaked Aven. "Pardon me, I do profusely apologise for the interruption! Please keep calm and carry on."
"What are you doing, photographing me at a bloody cemetery?" Grandpoppy barked.
"RUFFF GRRR WOOFF WOooff okay I thought you looked pretty. The gravestones really bring out the grey in your hair." The brain dead American dodo read the engraving. "Hmm... Louise Tomlinson Styles, is she your mum?"
"No," sighed poor Grandpoppy. "She was my wife. We got married today, 49 years ago on the 28th of September. I adored her. I used to love breathing her in and breathing her out. I guess now I'm living one life for the two of us."
Jealousy radiated off Aven's aching core. "I'll be your Louis."
"It's Louise."
"Whatever. Let me be your sucker baby," begged the desperate photographer gorl. "Let's go to Daytona together. We can eat frozen yogurt at a smelly gas station and then go skinny dipping!"
"You might not be able to handle that. It might trigger your asthma," growled my ferocious Grandpoppy. "Leave me alone or pretty soon you'll be needing a gravestone here too."
Sadly, the one needing the gravestone would be Grandpoppy Styles 🥺.
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